Aide Memoire
by Wrastrix
Summary: Quote - 'And it was there that Harry collapsed onto the smooth and carpeted floor, silent tears running down his face as his whole body shook with the force of nearly a lifetime’s worth of blocking the truth.....' Full Summary inside!
1. Ab Origine

Aide Memoire  
  
SUMMARY: For years Harry has been torn apart and has been left to pick up the pieces - but not anymore. Will he fight for his true hidden heritage or will he fight for the Order?  
  
RATING: PG  
  
GENRE: Suspense/ Fantasy/ Angst  
  
SET: Summer of 1996, Harry's sixth year.  
  
ANY WARNINGS: This contains mention of Slash on Harry's account, and mentions of Death. Spoilers for the Order of the Phoenix!  
  
DISCLAIMER - Do you want it in Latin, Spanish or French? Or how about plain English? I am not making any money or profit out of this piece; and J.K or any of the others owns anything you recognise thereafter.  
  
Chapter One: Prologue of Harry's life so far.  
  
It was a usually cold, summer morning at Privet Drive. Harry Potter at Number four, was trying to get some much needed sleep after his scar had started bleeding badly the night before, but had failed miserably.  
  
"Up. Get up now. You're late!" His Aunt rasped at the door.  
  
"Coming Aunt Petunia." He mumbled as he reached for his glasses, distracted only slightly by the slight crack that edging closer to the centre of one of the lenses. As he sat up, he noticed the blood on the sheets from his head bleeding. He groaned loudly and hit the pillow, but stopped when his head started spinning. This was the first time his scar had bled for several years, not that he would tell anyone. Ron would ask his Dad about it, Hermione would consult a book and Dumbledore would probably ask more questions, which involved answers that Harry did not want to give.  
  
When he arrived in the kitchen, the Dursleys were sitting around the television and on it, was a rather smug looking news reporter. He grabbed a piece of toast, earned a deathly glance from his Uncle, and sat down at the table. His Uncle was still staring at him.  
  
"... Black escaped two years ago, and was failed to be caught. We strongly advise that you do not try and approach him, under any circumstances. He is armed, and will not be afraid to destroy anyone who is unfortunate to be in his path. Keep you windows locked, and don't let any of your children go out after 6 p.m. The Police will be patrolling all areas and if they see anybody out after this time, they will be taken back to their home with warning. The bodies, which were found in the forest, were taken to the hospital.. "  
  
Harry drifted into the depths of his own mind after that. He felt like grunting... or crying... or - something to take away the numbness that had apparently moved into his body and had settled residence since the day of Sirius' death. He hadn't really thought about that day - he had tried to keep his mind on other things, like the mountain high load of homework that had been presented to him by his Hogwarts teachers. He didn't have any real family left now... well, none that would run in front of a moving bus or the killing curse for Harry. No, it was better to think that he didn't have any family left whatsoever. A loud hoot of a car cut Harry short of his musings - and when he looked back at the television screen in front of him he noticed that a wrinkly-faced news reporter was looking glumly at the camera and speaking in a monotone voice about such and such and the great Olympics.  
  
His Uncle was still staring at him, as if he was some sort of fantastic object at a museum, so Harry thought it was time to ask his uncle about something that had been eating away at him for the least few months. He cleared his throat - and thought of something that would lead to Harry's question.  
  
"Uncle Vernon?" He asked timidly, watching as Dudley looked up from licking the chocolate from his porky fingers and stared at Harry like he was Dudley's next meal.  
  
"What?" His uncle asked gruffly, his beady eyes moving from the television screen to Harry.  
  
"What was that all about, you know, the escaped prisoner?" the younger boy asked positively, blocking his paranoid thoughts away. His Uncle shot him a glance, looked at his nephew's head, then replied in a rough fashion.  
  
"Black apparently, was seen by several people, running through this town. They ran away from him, but he chased them into the forest, where he brutally killed four of them. One of the survivors is my work colleague, and he's petrified to stay at his place, so he will be staying here for a couple of days in the spare room. I'm going to pick him up in," he glanced at his watch and frowned. " About 10 minutes."  
  
He finished this statement with another glance at Harry's forehead, muttered something under his breath and then walked into the kitchen. Harry heard the sound of a cupboard shutting, and some water running - which, in Harry's poor state of mind, was never a very good thing. Vernon came back a few moments later with a damp cloth. He gave it to Harry and told him to go and lie down. The Dursleys had amazed Harry when he had first walked through their home's door just over two weeks ago - they had suddenly started to act as if Harry existed, and as if he was their actual nephew than just a piece of filth on the bottoms of their shoes. Mind you, if Harry had any say in it he would bet that Petunia had had a very interesting letter from someone or another and that had helped her change her... opinions of her poor nephew. Vernon, on the other hand, had tried to help Harry in any way he could - but Harry, who thought that the whole debacle was wearing off and becoming rather sickening, declined whenever possible. He heard the door slam when he had lay down, but then it shut a bit quieter after he heard some bickering from the kitchen. Dudley came in after that, most unusually, with a note and a dark purple vial clutched in one hand. He handed it to Harry, told him that if he had better not destroy the house while the Dursleys were away for a couple of hours and then left - slamming the living room door and the front door on the way out.  
  
It was a few moments until Harry heard his aunt and uncle's car start up and go, the noise of the engine fading into a nothingness until all Harry could here was the forever silence in the house - the horrible waiting that left his mind free to wander off anywhere.  
  
Harry took in the room and his surroundings. He suspected that Dumbledore had had a very long chat to the Dursleys, and by the very familiar writing on the instructions that were sitting underneath the vial on a piece of parchment Dudley had given him, it looked as if the Potions Master had talked to them as well.  
  
He sighed, and walked from the living and into the kitchen - determined to get a glass to pour whatever his Potion Master had given him into. As he passed the cupboard under the stairs, he paused - and unfortunately his mind drifted into a dark and forgotten place as he stared at the marking just above the strangely shaped door.  
  
It was a strange inscription - and to the untrained eye it would look like a squiggle, but to Harry it was the only reminder to him of his friends. His true friends, that never ran from him when he found out why some people despised him so much. so different to what it was now like.  
  
His right hand instinctively traced the mark, his mouth silently copying that of what it meant - that Harry's true friends would return when the time was right and he truly needed them.  
  
The markings were in a language that was not foreign to his eyes - he knew it as the writing of the Vampires, the writing that his friend Braen had taught to him over two years of embarrassing lectures and hilarious adventures.  
  
Braen was Harry's true friend, but the fact that the older boy was a vampire had nothing to do with it whatsoever - Braen was the son of a Vampire lord, who happened to be a good friend of Harry's true father, so they had known each other since birth and probably before that.  
  
From what Harry remembered of him, the older boy had had ear length dark black (almost a dark purple colour) hair, with sparkling dark eyes and a mischievous smile whenever Harry had complained about anything. He was also two weeks older than Harry, and knew more about everything than Harry suspected anyone did.  
  
He smiled bitterly as he thought of the look on his companions' faces if he waltzed into the Great Hall bearing the same mark that his true father did.  
  
Oh. but what was the point. They would scream and look at it and then say that, 'it didn't matter because Harry was the was the boy-who-lived and nothing would change that' - if only they could see Harry as his true self. the boy that sacrificed everything he had to try and live a normal and almost peaceful life, and for all the promises that Fudge made all those years ago that he broke.  
  
It was amazing how much he had been affect by his sister's death and hadn't even realised it. Harry had never told anyone about his sister, not even Ron and Hermione - not only did he not trust them to keep quiet about it, but also they would be sure to ask too many questions that would demand far too complicated answers. No, it was better keeping his twin sister secret - and the rest of his true blood family for the same reason.  
  
But sometimes he lost his temper, and it happened in a detention in Potions Class once as he remembered what Ron had been talking about at dinner, on about how he would love to be a lonely child - he had thrown a very expensive crystal vial just inches away from Snape's face that had earned him a month's worth of night detentions in helping the Potion's Master collect night herbs from the Forbidden Forest. One of the many detentions he had 'conveniently' forgot to mention to Ron and Hermione.  
  
Harry sighed, and closed his tired eyes, forgetting for a moment that he was famous and momentarily forgetting his now stiff legs from standing in the same position for a while. His mind drifted again to a place - a place where he saw his friends, running to him, in fleece scarfs. Sometimes, if he searched hard enough in his mind, he saw his Uncle Lucius in his cabin on the Swiss Alps, where Harry sometimes had stayed with Braen in the winter, when he was younger.  
  
That's where his sister was found, dead in the blood soaked snow surrounding her with a single tinge of light blue to her freezing lips. That's all the colour that was left to her. Braen found her first, grinning like a madman as he collected wood from around the area. He had apparently dropped all the wood and yelled for help until Harry had arrived with Gizmo, a beautiful white dog that belonged to Lucius - which had ran back to the cabin to get it's master, while Harry had collapsed beside his sister, in the deep snow. That was the second to last time he had ever seen Braen. The last time was at the funeral of Pisces - and when Harry had gone back to the Dursley's he had seen the markings on his cupboard's door, with a handwritten note on the foot of his mattress inside. And that was the last time he had ever gone to the Swiss Alps. That's why he hated Christmas so much, not that he showed it. He had never let feelings get in his way.  
  
His Uncle had asked him to stay. His Uncle had tried to get custody of Harry, but it had failed. He hadn't seen him in person since that court case to determine what killed Pisces. Mind you, even if Lucius saw Harry walking down the street, he probably wouldn't recognize him. Harry's shoulder length hair and slanted eyes brows had disappeared a long time ago. At that moment the phone rang - causing Harry to jump and turn around to look at the closed door of the living room with a frown. It rang again. Three times. Four. The answering machine cut in.  
  
'You have reached the Dursley household. Please leave your name, number and reason for calling after the tone, and we'll get back to you shortly.' Said the gruff voice of Vernon Dursley, and a long beep sounded at the end.  
  
"Harry," said a low, commanding voice. " Pick the phone up, I know you're there. We need to talk. It's rather urgent that I talk to you."  
  
Harry recognized that voice. It was the voice of the one person that he thought had truly forgot about him. It sounded as if his uncle Lucius needed to chat - but why now, after all these long regretful years that Harry had waited to hear his wonderful smooth voice fill his ears?  
  
And it was there that Harry collapsed onto the smooth and carpeted floor, silent tears running down his face as his whole body shook with the force of nearly a lifetime's worth of blocking the truth up - and he still cried, cried for the loss of those closest to him, and those that he never knew but meant more to him than the whole of his life was worth.  
  
He cried for the truth that he had to lie about - the lies and the memories that he had told himself that he had to forget about. He cried so hard, that he felt his eyes close and his mind fall into the darkness before he had finished.  
  
S.W.L: Snake Walker League  
  
Snake: a treacherous person or secret enemy; move or twist like a snake.  
  
Walker: a person or animal that walks.  
  
League: 1 a collection of people, countries, groups, etc., combining for a particular purpose, esp. mutual protection or cooperation. 2 An agreement to combine in this way. 3 a group of sports clubs which compete over a period for a championship. 4 a class of contestants etc. of comparable ability. v.intr. (Leagues, leagued, leaguing) (often foll. by together) join in a league. In league allied, conspiring.  
  
Thank you for reading. I hope you liked it - and if you didn't, please explain why so I can write a better second chapter. Thanks again.  
  
~_~Dark Heart~_~ 


	2. Honoris Causa

Aide Memoire  
  
SUMMARY:  
For years Harry has been torn apart and has been left to  
pick up the pieces - but not anymore. Will he fight for his  
true hidden heritage or will he fight for the Order?  
  
RATING: PG/PG-13  
  
GENRE: Suspense/ Fantasy/ Angst  
  
SET: Summer of 1996, Harry's sixth year.  
  
ANY WARNINGS: This contains mention of Slash on Harry's account, and mentions of Death. Spoilers for the Order of the Phoenix!  
  
DISCLAIMER - Do you want it in Latin, Spanish or French? Or how about plain English? I am not making any money or profit out of this piece; and J.K or any of the others owns anything you recognise thereafter.  
  
NOTE - I'm hoping this won't be too long - I'm aiming at only a few chapters with a maximum of eight, so as to get it all done and dusted over pretty quickly.  
  
Chapter Two - The Meeting with The Devil  
  
It was just Harry's luck to be spotted by a group of hormone raging witches just as he was trying not to be seen in the hustle and bustle that was London - and if it wasn't for the fact that his uncle was determined to meet him in an unknown café in the centre of the big city, he would probably still be curled up in bed at this hour of the morning.  
  
A week had gone by since Harry had first received the message from his Uncle Lucius at the Dursley's household, asking Harry to meet him at a particular café to discuss... matters - and that week had to have been the longest and the most annoying that Harry had ever had.  
  
The first time Harry had heard from the man he had been... flabbergasted to say the least - he had given Harry formal greetings before he had swiftly moved onto the subject of meeting to discuss 'matters that shall not be discussed over the telephone', and had then said his goodbyes and hung up on Harry, who received a birthday card and a watch from Lucius, most surprisingly, 5 minutes before his 16th birthday.  
  
He finally reached the café that the meeting would take place in fewer than 10 minutes - it was painted yellow on the outside and several couples were inside, drinking things out of delicate little cups and smiling at one another.  
  
Harry found a couple's table in one of the far corners, so he sat down onto the floral chairs and looked around - hoping to get a drink of tea or coffee to calm his nerves before meeting with his father's brother.  
  
He kept looking at the watch on his left wrist, wishing that his Uncle would hurry up and get here so that Harry could go back to the Dursley's and make them breakfast.. And it was only when he was thinking that the man had decided to stand him up after all these years and was going to leave that he heard the very familiar, spine tingling deep voice of Lucius Paloin whisper from behind him.  
  
"Thinking of leaving without me, were you?" and that sentence brought the world crashing down around Harry - and he was forced to turn around and look at the man who had brought luck and shone light throughout Harry's whole childhood.  
  
Lucius Paloin was completely the opposite of Vernon Dursley, and indeed, he looked nothing like James Potter- the adoptive father of Harry and who everyone insisting on comparing Harry to. Lucius had chest length jet black hair, very pale skin and black eyes (they were apparently distant cousins of the Snapes). At the moment, the man standing In front of him was standing proudly with hands curled over his skull headed cane. So much like Lucius Malfoy and his other fellow Death Eaters, but yet so different. Lucius had been the brother of Theodore - and Theodore was the biological father of Harry, but he had apparently died two days before Harry was born, so he had never actually met his son.  
  
After the 'Godric's Hollow' incident and Harry had been taken to the Dursleys - Lucius had come to collect Harry three days later to claim rights to him and take him to his home. The Dursleys agreed - but their moods changed when Harry was three years old, Vernon Dursley had somehow cottoned on to Harry's powerful heritage and so Harry was forbidden to ever live with his true uncle again. That didn't stop the young boy, however, because whenever he could - he caught a bus and went to see Lucius, and then Lucius would take him back home, the Dursleys quite unaware of their nephew meeting with the 'dangerous' uncle.  
  
The tall, proud man raised an eyebrow at Harry, who grinned slightly, before sitting down delicately on the rickety chair.  
  
"Uh, hello," Harry replied, unsure of how to start the conversation and what to say.  
  
"Ever the philologist, I see," the man replied softly, smiling slightly as he lifted the lift off of the orange teapot and stared into the tea remaining in it.  
  
"It's cold by now - I was thirsty, sorry."  
  
His uncle frowned slightly at the unease in his nephew's voice - but he noticed that Harry's eyes darted quickly to his forearm and a slight spark of panic fly into the young boy's eyes. Well, no worry there then about the growing up stage. The boy had defiantly grown up since he had last seen him.  
  
Lucius poured some of the tea into the cup next to the pot, and sipped some of it - wincing slightly at the cold and now tangy liquid that entered his mouth.  
  
"I apologize for my delay in wishing you a grand 16th - mind you, this place isn't much better," his eyes darted over to where a woman behind a counter was staring at him wickedly, and then went back to look into the emerald orbs in front of him. "I have been rather busy as of late, and I'm afraid that I wondered whether I would have time to surprise you at all."  
  
Harry nodded and look down at the cold and empty mug that had held tea a somewhat brief hour ago - it was to be expected that the man in front of him was busy, Lucius had a lot of catching up to do with the Dark Lord.  
  
"It's quite alright. I understand - I didn't expect you to contact me at all anyway, I must say that it was a shock when I got your message," Harry replied, smiling offhandedly while his eyes darted again to where Harry knew the Dark Mark would be grinning wickedly on the man's forearm.  
  
Harry had seen the skull mark on his uncle's forearm the first time, on his sixth birthday - after that, Lucius had gone through a stage of 'I would never hurt you Julian*' and 'I promise that I'll always be here for you'. It had been enough to make the boy sick, and indeed - on Harry's seventh birthday, it had been fate that had stopped Lucius from saying those things again.  
  
When the same image had appeared at the Qudditch World Cup a mere two years before, Harry's mind had gone into overload and he had even thought that Lucius had come to collect him from the clutches of the Ministry - that was, until Harry had heard of the Death Eaters.  
  
At the time of the breaking news that Arthur revealed to everyone in that tent - Harry new that he should have been shocked. He knew that he should have gasped or cried or.. something what was thought of as normal when a mass murdering group were found to be united once again after their master was thought to be dead - but all he felt was a slight feeling of knowing, and a slight feeling of uneasiness at what his uncle did for a living.  
  
Lucius had always been polite and had never lied to Harry - he had answered every question about the Dark Mark that Harry had asked, and had even taken to showing his nephew an underground city of tunnels that had once been Voldemort and his most faithful death eaters' home.  
  
A bang outside cut Harry short of his musings - and he once again stared as his uncle flicked back a long piece of coal coloured hair with a kind smile on his face.  
  
"Well, then I did surprise you. How's school? I presume you got your letters for Hogwarts, hm?" Lucius asked, taking a sip of the cold tea once again. He noticed a slight blush rise into his nephew's cheeks, which caused him to raise an eyebrow slightly.  
  
"I'm in Gryffindor - the hat said that I should go into Slytherin, but I argued against it," Harry stopped short. What was he supposed to say - 'I make lots of new friends every day and everyone loves me because I defeated your master'? The man made Harry do all sorts of things - and rather undeniably, Harry had just blurted out one of the numerous things he had kept from Ron and Hermione. That was probably why he was such a good Death Eater.  
  
"Julian, frankly I don't care what house you're in. As long as you're not in Hufflepuff - then I'm afraid that I would never speak to you again and you'd be a severe disappointment to your true family," the man replied mordantly, an amusing smile beginning to appear as Harry grinned. "Have you made any friends?"  
  
To anyone else, that would sound absolutely ridiculous - but Harry knew what the man meant. He meant a true friend.. one that would jump through fire or run in front of a moving vehicle for Harry, and quite frankly, the only answer Harry could think of was no - but Harry had only known five people in his entire life who would do that for him, and two of those in question were dead.  
  
"Harry?" the man asked again, causing Harry to look up in slight surprise at the man addressing Harry as 'Harry'. At the sight of the look on Lucius' face, Harry smiled apologetically.  
  
"Two great friends. But no one who truly cares about me," Harry replied, sighing as he emphasised on the 'me'. Lucius nodded in understanding.  
  
"I thought as much, the first instance that I saw you today," Harry looked up at his uncle, slightly bemused. "You don't look nearly as healthy as the last time that I saw you, and you give the impression that you're forlorn one way or another."  
  
The younger boy sighed.  
  
"It's.. hard. In a way, I mean. Oh - I don't know. It's.. I'm not making any sense, am I?" Harry asked suddenly, an annoying feeling of frustration creeping up in his mind.  
  
"Trust me, I know perfectly well what you mean," he paused slightly, turning over his thoughts in his head before continuing. "Julian - please believe me when I say that it would have been better if you had stayed with me, even after the Dark Lord came back; I would have still protected you from the wilderness of this world," he finished, a slight quaver of something lacing into his voice as he spoke of his master. Harry smiled kindly - all thoughts of the tea in front vanishing from his mind.  
  
They were both silent after that; each lost in their own thoughts and their own memories of the last meeting that they had. The terrifying meeting when Harry had been Julian, and the death of his sister had been still fresh and imprinted onto his childhood mind.  
  
In had been while Harry was still drifting through the darkness that Lucius had last said his goodbyes - when Harry had been less than forgiving as his sister was lost into the dark ground forever.  
  
Nearly a decade had passed since that day - when Harry had been so young and was ready to follow his saviour into fire to prove that he was worthy of the man's kindness - but now all he could feel was a slight feeling of a memory, one that was so carelessly lost all those years ago.  
  
X C X C X C  
  
"No, Bry. I'm not jumping."  
  
"Come on, Julian. It won't kill you! Look!" and the black haired boy jumped down to the ground - doing a somersault in the air and grinning up at his best friend in the world. His best friend in the whole world looked down at him with a look of pure evil, which just caused Braen to laugh even harder.  
  
"Well, it's alright for you, isn't it? You're already dead, so it won't matter if you do something that's supposed ta' kill you - but me, I would like to keep my life for a little bit longer, thanks," the younger boy sniffed the cold air surrounding him as if he was the king of the Earth - and Braen blinked away some laughter tears that were forming at the corner of his eyes.  
  
"Just jump," he laughed, trying to look serious at the frowning boy but failing miserably. "Look, I'm just going down the road to find a burger bar or something.. I'm getting quite peckish.. " And with that, the vampire started to walk away from the tree - until he heard a yell of his clan name and a loud thud echo throughout the otherwise empty playground.  
  
"Wait up," he heard Julian say from his side, as a huge grin started to work his way onto his pale face - he quickly smothered it, however, and looked at his friend with a curious look.  
  
"I thought you couldn't jump?" he asked mildly, lightly kicking a brown pebble that marked his black school shoe.  
  
His friend growled from Braen's left side while they carried on walking at a steady pace up the darkening gravel pavement - and the older boy was happy chuckling away until Harry's arm came out to stop him walking.  
  
He looked towards the head of his friend, and saw a look of absolute concentration set onto his usually calm face.  
  
"What?" Braen whispered out of the side of his mouth, looking in the direction of the road in front, at a shadow that was peeping out from behind a tree about 100 yards in front.  
  
He betted that Julian could recognise that shadow a mere mile off.  
  
"Pisces.... what are you doing following us?" he heard the curt voice of Julian say before a girl, dressed in a long green coat that was clasped with the Paloin family crest, appeared with a smile on her thin face She had thick, red hair and dark eyes that seemed to be glittering with mischievousness.  
  
She came forward slightly, the trees moving in coordination with the strengthening wind - she wore a sad smile on her face as she looked up at her brother.  
  
"Hello Harry. It's time to wake up now.. "She smiled a sad smile, and soon she and the scene were fading away, with Harry trying to keep hold of the arm that Pisces had outstretched to him.  
  
"Not yet, Harry. You're not ready to come and see me yet," her ghostly voice echoed softly, although the gales were picking up and causing the trees to sway heavily in the background - the same sad smile painted lightly on her pale face.  
  
"Pisces! Please!" Harry begged, watching as his small sister began shaking her head and walking backwards - her ghostly face and dark eyes never leaving the sight of his own.  
  
It was only when he turned around and saw that he was once again in the burning corridor with the hooded figure looming out from the incoming flames that he woke up suddenly.  
  
He shot up in bed, sweating profusely and panting like he had run a race - he fumbled in the darkness for the light switch, flicked it on and winced as a stream of bright light entered the room and his eyes, and once glad for once that the Dursleys were out again.  
  
It had only been recently that he had started having these dreams about his sister again - and the burning house that he'd rather have forgotten about. He cupped his hands tightly and pulled his knees up to his face, the undeniable feeling of weakness and sadness enter him as the horrible feeling of unease took control.  
  
It was only when he heard a hoot of an owl that he looked towards Hedwig's cage and saw the bird looking at him with a confused look.  
  
"What?" he whispered, before clambering out of bed soundlessly and walking over to the bird's cage.  
  
As he was stroking her, his mind drifted once again to the dream he had just had.. That dream that had once been reality - but why on Earth would Pisces want him to wake up? Was she trying to warn him of something through his dreams?  
  
Harry shook his head at the idea of that - and then smiled bitterly, before he noticed a piece of paper crumpled up that was thrown onto his desk.  
  
He really did hate his friends sometimes - he hated them for their little knowledge in Harry's life, and what he had to put up with on a day-to-day basis. He knew that he should blame himself for never letting them in - for always putting up a strong barrier whenever talk of a family or people's 'childhood' got a little too close for comfort in Harry's strong willed mind.  
  
He couldn't help it, because it was the way that he had coped with what he knew for 10 years - by blocking out what really happened to him so that he could turn his life into a false image... a façade.  
  
He let go of Hedwig, walked out of his room and carefully down the stairs - thanking Merlin that the Dursleys had gone somewhere for a few days. In the darkness, he saw the cupboard looming out - so he walked over to it carefully and undid the bolt that was the only barrier from him and what he wanted.  
  
As he walked in, a thin haze of dust filled his nostrils, and he got down in all fours to try and search for what he wanted in the black that was the night. His hands wavered over the chipped floorboards instinctively - until he felt a floorboard loosen enough for his fingers (once his whole hand) to get in.  
  
He pulled out an old tin, as slim as half of the length of a ruler but about as long as a standard ruler - he pulled the light switch on his right and a dim but powerful enough glow filled the small space, and the old picture of the farm on the tin's lid filled Harry's eyes, a thousand memories filling his tired head.  
  
He took the lid off and let it fall with a 'clang' onto the floor, and a slight smell of old paper filled his nostrils as he picked up a photograph of a dead grasshopper with a sad smile on his face.  
  
He searched the box for what he was looking for - through fuzzy pictures and unreadable letters to a little green velvet box. The box held no importance to Harry - but it was the pendant inside that truly meant something to the boy. The whole necklace was made of solid gold and the actual pendant was about seven inches in diameter, with the message 'with the love of another, I bequeath this bequest to thee. Love T.P' scrolled into the back - inside were spaces for two oval photographs, but one was full: a black and white and slightly torn oval picture of his biological father filled one hole, but the other one was left black for Harry to add someone to.  
  
It had been given to the boy on his sixth birthday by his father's best friend, Julian - and apparently Theodore (Harry's father) had had it engraved two days before he left with 50 other death eaters in the height of a war in the wizarding world - more than ¾ of them never returned to the news of another victory for the Order of the Phoenix, and that had included Theodore.  
  
He could hear everything - the tick tock sound of the clock on the wall opposite and sound of his own breathing filled his ears as he reached up to turn the light off again, his thumb tracing the inscription on the necklace as he done thousands of times before.  
  
And suddenly everything fitted into place - of how he had lived through that terrible blaze that had taken the life of his 'little' sister, how he had always managed to steer way out of trouble and how he had always felt as if someone was there; pushing him a little bit further on, even when he felt like giving up.  
  
Yes.. Even though the man was dead and he had never met Harry - he was always there, looking out for the boy and never ever letting him go from his steel grip.  
  
NOTES/ AUTHOR NOTES  
  
'Julian' and 'Harry' are the same people - Julian was the name given to Harry by Lily when he was born, in memory of the man who saved her life and who didn't kill her for carrying a death eater's child; like most death eaters were ordered to.  
  
Harry was the name that is on his birth certificate - but the people who know who Harry's true father was call him Julian.  
  
Thanks to everyone who has read my story, including Kelei and Hecatedemort for reviewing the last chapter. I hoped you enjoyed this one as well.  
  
Have a nice day, and I'll try to get chapter three up soon.  
  
Blessings,  
  
~_~Dark Heart~_~ 


End file.
